


Ashen Demon; Crimson flower

by FallenGale



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Byleth has a sister AU, Crimson Flower AU, F/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22966069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenGale/pseuds/FallenGale
Summary: Byleth is the reincarnation of the Goddess Sothis, wielder of the most powerful hero's relic, a skilled fighter in all forms of combat, and beloved professor.Her younger sister Freya was none of those things, and it was only when they arrived at Garreg Mach that she realizes how far away she really is.*This is the story of Crimson Flower, but not for Byleth. Instead, Freya is put into the Black Eagle house as a student while her sister teaches the Blue Lions.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Original Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	1. Prologue

**Chapter 1:**

**Prologue**

_28, Lone Moon, 1180_

_Remire Village_

Freya hesitantly opened her eyes. The room around her was covered in the shadows of night with only the small glow of the moon to reveal the furnishings. She cautiously sat up to observe her surroundings, wondering what had caused her to awaken at this unholy hour. 

“I am mortal.” a gentle voice mumbled behind her.

Her shoulders relaxed and she turned to face her sleeping sister. Another mumble rumbled from her throat.

“Byleth.”

Freya covered her mouth so as not to laugh. Her sister was hardly the talkative type when she was awake, to hear her talking in her sleep was rather funny to her. She watched quietly as the woman continued to stumble out words to a conversation she could not hear. The comfort of the bed started to call to her, with a kiss on her older sister’s head she snuggled back into the blanket and fell back to sleep.

Not ten minutes later, another noise brought Freya back into the waking world. The telltale sounds of armor marching in through the door alerted her to her father’s return. From her side, she could feel Byleth rising out of the bed so with a resigned sigh she opened her eyes.

Her father was a big man, towering in both presence and form. His body was almost carved from the battles he had won over the years, his face carrying the scars of his closest calls. Freya had inherited his pale brown hair and eyes, a stark contrast to her sister’s blue hues. 

“Is your patrol over?” Byleth’s voice spoke softly overhead.

Jeralt gave a small smile to his eldest before removing his sword from his side and placing it on a nearby table.

“Yes, nothing to report. It’s a peaceful village that doesn’t seem to attract much notice other than being a half day travel outside the monastery.” His smile tightened.

“I saw her again.”

“You mean you had the same dream again.”

“Yes.”

“Same young girl with bright green hair?” Jeralt questioned.

Byleth nodded.

“Is that who you were talking to?” Freya spoke up from underneath the blankets.

“Was she talking in her sleep?” Jeralt looked to his youngest.

She sat up in the bed and turned to give Byleth a mischievous grin. 

“You said the silliest thing ‘I am mortal’. What kind of conversations do you have in your head?” Byleth’s eyes widened a fraction before she shrugged. 

Freya rolled her eyes affectionately. 

Jeralt moved forward to say something when a knock was heard on the door. 

“Sir, there has been a report of bandits nearby. Some children have come by asking for aid.”

Jeralt and Byleth were up in a flash, grabbing their weapons with practiced ease before heading to the door. Jeralt was still dressed in his armor from patrol and Byleth had slept in her clothes to prepare for the second patrol shift. Freya also grabbed her sword, but she looked much less ready for battle in her nightgown than the rest of her family. Her father looked back and held up his hand. 

“You stay in the village and take care of any stragglers that get past our line. Make sure the townsfolk all stay safe and in their homes.”

Freya’s shoulders slumped. Obviously no one was going to get past the Blade Breaker and the Ashen Demon, but she knew better than to question her father’s orders. She nodded and went into a bag to find her day clothes while Jeralt and Byleth left with the mercenary at the door.

Dressed in her modest attire, hair tied up, and with sword in hand, Freya left the house and moved towards the center of town. Each step was quieter than the last, her eyes scanning between buildings for any threats to the kind people that had let them stay in their village. In the distance towards the forest edge she could hear the echoes of fighting. A part of her longed to run in and join, but the other part of her gripped her sword unsteadily. 

She raised the blade in front of her, pointing it at a well as if it was hiding her foes. She took a deep breath and moved forward, counting the steps her father taught her in her head. 

_Step, Lunge, Step, Block, Step, Cut, Step, Lunge, Step, Block, Step, Cut-_

Freya tripped as the weight of the swinging sword set her off balance, landing against the rough exterior of the well. She cursed to herself as she quickly got off the ground, glad no one was there to see that embarrassing display. A small sharp throbbing alerted her to the fact she had cut her hand in the fall. She blew the loose hair strands out of her face before setting off back to their temporary house, hoping she would get there in time to fix up her hand before her family returned.

Unfortunately, both Jeralt and Byleth were waiting outside the house when she got back. 

“Done already? Must not have been that serious of a bandit raid.” Freya smiled, hiding her hand behind her back.

Byleth’s blue eyes tightened. She marched up and grabbed Freya’s arm, pulling her slightly bloody hand out. Her eyes moved from the wound to Freya’s glowing red face, changing from an accusatory glance to one of concern.

“I just thought I should get some practice in, since there was nothing for me to do.” Freya winced at the unintentional bite in her tone. She turned her head away, trying to look anywhere but at her sister’s face. 

A moment later and the far too familiar feeling of healing magic rushed up her arm through her hand. She glanced over at her hand to see that indeed the wound was no longer there.

“Thanks.”

Byleth gave her a nod before Jeralt cleared his throat, gaining both their attentions. 

“We’re leaving now. We have to take some nobles back to Garreg Mach Monastery. Pack your things and we’ll leave.”

Both girls nodded and moved inside to gather their meager belongings. Once they were all set, the group walked toward the town entrance and the main road. 

At the entrance to the forest road were three people Freya’s age dressed in fine black and gold uniforms offset by capes of three colors; red, blue, and yellow. Each carried themselves with an air of importance and confidence, something that immediately informed Freya these were the nobles that her father had spoken of. 

The boy in blue had a lance in one hand, his stature almost just as tall. His blue eyes were stunning behind the fringe of his cleanly cut blonde hair. The boy in yellow was casually holding a bow at his waist. His skin was tan and his eyes were green, an odd combination this far inland. The most striking individual, however, was the third individual, a girl in red. Her hair was as white as snow, giving off a silvery shine in the moonlight. Her eyes were a pale violet, a color Freya had never seen before. She carried a weighty axe, but she seemed to wield it with as much ease as the rest of her company.

Upon noticing the families’ arrival, the three nobles immediately set their attention to Byleth. Each gaze held intent and a slight fire for competition. Freya looked back at her sister, but Byleth’s face was a stoic as it had always been. There was a slight lost look to her gaze though, one that told her Byleth was deeply thinking about something. She made a note to herself to ask Byleth what she had done to make the nobles so interested in her.

Her father also seemed to have a fan in the form of a middle aged man in white shining armor. He talked to Jeralt as if he was an old friend. Her father seemed far less comfortable with the man. However, he walked beside him with a sense of resignation, clearly knowing that his incessant chatter was inevitable.

The march to the monastery was long, but not unpleasant. Freya learned that the three nobles were Dimitri, Claude, and Edelgard. They were students in the Officers Academy, a school for the children of Fodlan’s most influential people. It all sounded very pretentious to Freya, but she kept that opinion to herself, instead opting to listen to the two boys discuss the school and their territories to Byleth. To her credit, despite her obvious discomfort, her quiet sister was patiently nodding between them.

_If they thought they could convince her sister to leave their family of mercenaries then they were as stupid as they were rich._

Edelgard kept quiet for almost all of the trek, speaking only when asked a direct question. She seemed deep in thought, never entirely present with the rest of the group. It reminded Freya of Byleth in some ways. 

The light of morning slowly broke through the trees surrounding the road, the only testament to how long they had been walking this trail. The forest started to thin up ahead, the path leading up a hill. Freya couldn’t help herself. She ran up to Byleth and pulled her away from her new fans, dragging her up the rest of the path. 

As they stood atop the hill they could see the full breadth of Garreg Mach. It was unlike anything Freya had ever seen, a castle built into, and on top of, a small mountain. It was surrounded on all sides by layers of walls, towering over small settlements and roads winding up towards the top. Freya gasped in wonder as she beheld the beautiful cathedral overlooking the entire complex with stained glass windows depicting angelic figures. 

Byleth’s hand tightened in hers, a sure sign her sister felt the same awe at the sight in front of them. A gentle breeze brushing harmlessly passed caught their hair and clothes, almost pulling them forward. A small laugh found its way out of Freya’s lips. 

“Wow. So this is what it means to be rich, huh Sis?” Byleth quietly nodded beside her.

“Freya, Byleth, we’re moving.” Their father called as he passed, leading the horse carrying their belongings.

Byleth tugged on Freya’s hand, giving her a glance before pulling her away from the view. 

Their hands stayed together for the rest of the trip.

* * *

The front of the monastery was more grand up close than the previous view had suggested. What had seemed to be plain walls towering over the mountain side were actually heavily detailed with murals and carvings depicting some sort of story Freya didn’t know. The group walked through the last of the gates to the top most compound, surrounded by at least 30 more guards that had joined as they climbed.

They walked through the marketplace, trying not to trample down any stalls set up along the side of the road. Jeralt walked alongside his daughters, watching to make sure they didn’t get lost among the crowd of merchants and guards. He glanced up and froze. Freya and Byleth both paused and followed his gaze. On a balcony high above them, a radiant woman dressed in white stared. Her hair was the gentlest shade of sea-foam green, her skin pale as snow. Atop her head was a crown of gold adorned with lilies. Freya couldn’t see what the woman was looking at, but she was sure that this was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Jeralt grunted. He started their march into a great hall, forcing both girls to pull their eyes from the woman above. 

A quick thank you was given from the three noble students, who quickly moved within the crowds and disappeared from view. This left Freya, Jeralt, and Byleth with some of the soldiers they had been traveling with since entering the gate.

“I’ll inform Lady Rhea that you’re here, Captain. If you and your children would wait here, please.” The talkative friend of Jeralt, Alois, gave a quick bow before heading up the nearby stairs.

Jeralt looked perfectly calm to any outside observer, but both Byleth and Freya could see the tiny cracks in his facade. He was worried about something, but before either could ask him Alois returned.

“She wants to see you now. She’s so happy to hear you’ve returned to us!” Alois continued chatting to Jeralt as he led them up the stairs. 

Both Byleth and Freya shared a look of confusion before following.

Alois led them to a beautifully decorated room Freya would describe as a throne room. It was far longer and more open then any meeting room needed to be. At the end was the beautiful woman they had seen on the balcony. She was just as lovely in person, but she seemed untouchable, standing far from anyone. 

“Welcome back, Jeralt.” She spoke, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“Lady Rhea.” He bowed his head and motioned for both his children to do the same.

Byleth bowed, placing a hand on Freya’s head to make her bow as well. She glared at her sister until a new man made his entrance. He was an older man, maybe the same age as her father, but where Jeralt’s hair had started the process of greying this man kept his vibrantly green color. His outfit was also odd, a scholarly outfit that had clearly been altered for more freedom in movement. He even had a cape. 

_A cape._

Freya’s mouth had apparently been gaping because before the man had settled next to Lady Rhea, Byleth had moved her hand to close it. 

“I’m sorry for my late arrival. I am Seteth, adviser to the Archbishop.” He did a small bow before turning to lady Rhea.

“It must have been the fate of the Goddess that brought you back.” She smiled glancing at Byleth for a moment before returning to Jeralt.

“I’m sorry for my silence. A lot has happened since I left.” He motioned to the two girls standing beside him.

“Yes, I see you’ve been blessed with the gift of fatherhood.”

“Indeed. Long after I left here. I would love to introduce you to their mother, but unfortunately we lost her to illness some time ago.” Freya glanced at her father, confused. 

Byleth and Freya didn’t share a mother. Her mother had died of illness a year after she was born, but it had always been known that Byleth’s mother was another woman who had died before Jeralt knew her mother. They were a whole 5 years apart in age. Why was he lying to this woman?

His gaze stayed glued on Rhea’s face, unwilling to flinch or give away any thoughts. Something was wrong; Freya knew it.

“And what is your name, child?” Rhea smiled at Byleth, her eyes almost shimmering in glee.

“Byleth.”

“What a beautiful name. I heard about your exploits from Alois.” She stared at Byleth, seemingly in no rush to look away.

“Freya.” Freya interrupted, uncomfortable with the woman’s lock on Byleth. Rhea’s eyes moved to the other girl, losing the warmth they held previously, a false warmth taking its place.

“How nice.”

The Archbishop returned her gaze to Jeralt, her movements graceful but small. 

“I thank you for saving our students. You must know what I wish to ask?”

Jeralt groaned. “You wish for me to rejoin the knights of Seiros. I won’t say no but…”

Her face fell for a brief second before she regained her unphased composure. “I thought Alois would have already asked you. We would truly benefit from your expertise. Please consider it, Jeralt.” 

“There’s no way I can really say no, can I?” 

Freya grabbed Byleth’s hand and squeezed, her mind racing. There was no way her father had just agreed to stay here; no way he had just removed them from their mercenary life for a monastery job. He had to be joking, or buying his time so they could run. He couldn’t have just doomed them to a life with untrustworthy women, loud and obnoxious guards, and noble brats, right?

_Right?_

“Thank you, Jeralt. And I have something in mind for both your daughters as well. I’ll send someone to speak on the matter later. For now, your former lodgings are yours for the night. We’ll get your children their own lodgings tomorrow.” 

Rhea and Seteth bowed before leaving out the grand doors. The minute they were out of earshot Freya turned to her father.

“What are you thinking? We can’t stay here!” She seethed, not knowing if what she was feeling was panic or anger.

Jeralt took the accusation in stride, kneeling in front of his youngest.

“You don’t understand now, but this is more complicated than just deciding where I work. This is where you both are going to be safest in the long run.”

He held a hand up to her face, cradling her cheek and wiping away a tear. She hadn’t even realized she had started crying. 

“Don’t cry, kid. It’s not gonna be that bad. I promise if you hate it that much after a month or two we’ll leave, ok?” 

Freya hated how comforted she was by that. She should be stronger than that, strong enough to follow her father’s lead without question, like Byleth. She nodded and hurriedly wiped away her remaining tears, taking a deep breath before stepping out of her father’s embrace.

“No. I’ll be fine. If you think this is best then I’ll stay.” Jeralt gave a proud smile before ruffling her hair.

“That’s the spirit. Now I’m guessing you have some questions I need to answer. Let me take you to our room for the night and I’ll tell you the story on the way.”

The family left the room and headed downstairs to the knight’s barracks. Along the way Jeralt explained his association with the church, how he had worked here years ago before leaving to travel. He told them about the Church of Seiros, how it was the predominant religion of Fodlan and how the central church was located at Garreg Mach. It all was a lot to take in for both of his children, but he had faith they would adapt quickly. 

The next day Jeralt awoke, Captain of the most talented group of fighters in all of Fodlan, the Knights of Seiros.

Byleth awoke, newest and youngest professor in Garreg Mach’s halls.

And Freya awoke, student of the Officer’s Academy.


	2. Three Houses

**Chapter 2:**

**Three Houses**

_25, Great Tree Moon, 1180_

_Garreg Mach Monastery_

Freya woke at the crack of dawn, slowly stretching her body away from the luxury of her new plush bed. After spending all 16 years of her life on the road, having a fancy bed the last month felt like heaven. Her eyes blearily looked over her new room. She was still not used to waking up in the same place every morning, but slowly she was becoming comfortable with the idea that this space was hers. 

It was a simple room with a bed, a dresser, and a desk for furniture. All the pieces were well crafted, a matching set out of mahogany. The young girl stepped onto the plush red carpet that covered the floor. Another yawn pushed its way through her lungs. Hubert hadn’t done his rounds to wake everyone up, so she assumed she had some time to lazily get her uniform together.

Slowly Freya gathered the pieces to her uniform, making the smallest effort to keep them unwrinkled and tidy. She set them on the dresser and grabbed her brush, taking a second in the mirror to brush her hair to an acceptable unruliness. She lingered on her reflection. 

Her new role as a student had taken more than a couple days to get used to. The first day at Garreg Mach had been a whirlwind. Freya had been whisked by disciples of the church to various corners of the monastery to prepare her. Her hair had been cut to a manageable length just beyond her shoulders, clean and fragrantly oiled for the first time. The nun in charge had tutted aggressively as she trimmed away the dead ends and knots. Freya didn’t care much for her hair beyond keeping it out of her face. Even now, she just gave it a cursory brush each morning so that she was deemed presentable in class.

Next had been the hours of measurement and prodding by a seamstress for her uniform. Apparently since everyone else attending the academy was the progeny of, or sponsored by, nobility they had come with their own carefully selected wardrobe in the officer’s style. Which meant she had to have an equally expensive set sewn for her post haste. The uniform itself wasn’t the worst thing she had ever worn, but that hardly made her comfortable. It was made of fine materials that felt solid, but also gentle on her skin. She was given a breathable white long sleeve dress shirt to wear under a solid black vest. The vest curved under her chest and was adorned in golden buttons and chains. She was to wear plain black shorts and her new long black boots to match. The final piece she was to wear was a ruffled necktie the seamstress had called a jabot. Freya hated that part of the uniform the most. 

After hours of being sized and then forced into different styles of clothing, she had been sent to Profesor Hanneman’s office. She had no clue what she was to expect, but upon arriving she saw Byleth waiting as well. Both sisters shared a quick look of exhaustion. Freya had heard Byleth was supposed to teach some lessons, so she could only imagine what she had been forced to do today. 

Professor Hanneman had excitedly explained crests to both the girls, happy to present his research to two pairs of seemingly willing ears. Freya zoned out for most of his lecture, only catching bits about increased ability and the passage from parent to child. At this point, Freya was certain they didn’t have a crest. Jeralt would have told them if he had one. 

She ignored the fact he had conveniently forgotten to tell them about a whole past life.

“So let’s take a look. Professor, please hold your arm over this device.” He positioned Byleth’s arm and took a deep breath before activating the table below.

The device started to glow purple and Freya couldn’t help moving just a bit closer to see what was about to take place. After a couple seconds, a black shadow weaved into the purple light, displaying an incomprehensible pattern. Hanneman started to write feverishly, his eyes wide and bright with curiosity. Byleth looked down at the shadow with little understanding, just waiting for the professor to dismiss her.

Freya started to feel excitement build up within her as her sister’s crest took shape. Like an unbidden tidal wave, the prospects of having a crest welled up and crashed into her at full force. Did they have some hero as an ancestor? Had it just not awakened in them yet, and that’s why neither of them had experienced anything? Could she secretly have a power that would make her strong, like Byleth and Jeralt? 

Hanneman backed up and cleared his throat, allowing Byleth to move her arm back to her side. 

“Fascinating. I don’t know what this crest is. Maybe an old forgotten crest, or an entirely new one! Professor, I hope you will allow me to conduct some extra tests once I get my thoughts in order?” Byleth scrunched up her face, clearly finding the idea of testing distasteful. 

“Now your turn. Perhaps you share your sister’s peculiar crest!” Hanneman reached out for Freya’s arm. 

She was buzzing with excitement, barely able to hold still as the light returned. Then a minute passed. Then two. 

Each passing second was a prick of disappointment on her skin, slowly increasing in pain until Hanneman stopped the machine and her heart was struck instead. His face was one of clear disappointment, and Freya could only take a step back, holding onto her arm as if she had just discovered it was wounded. 

“Well, I did say it was rare for a crest to be passed down. That is probably why we haven’t seen this one before.” He continued to talk at Byleth, but Freya had stopped listening.

It shouldn’t matter that she didn’t have a crest. She didn’t come to this place with one, so she hadn’t lost anything. She had merely had her earlier suspicions confirmed. Jeralt probably didn’t have a crest, but maybe Byleth’s mom had. She should be happy for her sister, finding out something new about her mother. 

So why did it feel as if Byleth was so far away now? That the two steps it would take to reach her were suddenly more insurmountable than any steps she had taken before?

Freya shook her head and rid herself of her thoughts. She smiled at Byleth and stood next to her. 

“Been keeping secrets from me, Sis?” She grinned mischievously. 

Byleth’s eyes widened for a second in worry, before settling to her usual blank face. “I didn’t know.”

Freya rolled her eyes. “Of course you didn’t know. I’m just playing with you.” Byleth nodded before turning to Hanneman again, eyes gazing at something far away from the study they were in.

The feeling of distance came back. 

The rest of the day had been spent learning how to get around the monastery. There Freya had seen her first pegasus, but unfortunately she was not allowed to go to their stable. She followed the white horses with her eyes as she moved from the dinning hall to the gardens and finally to her new room, a dorm room at the end of the commoners’ row. 

It was there where she was informed of her house assignment. Byleth had chosen to head the Blue Lions house, so Lady Rhea had thought it best to place her in a different house. She was to attend class under Professor Hanneman as a Black Eagle. 

At first, Freya hadn’t known how to take the news. She wasn’t hoping for any particular class, but she had assumed they would leave her with her sister. She hadn’t argued with the decision, though. Perhaps she would learn something new from this other class that even Byleth didn’t know?

So far she had been happy with her placement. She had met her strange band of classmates in her new homeroom, a large classroom full of long desks facing a single desk and blackboard. She had been very scared on her first day. Everything had been so foreign: the sophistication of the room, the large amount of students pretending not to stare at her when her back was turned, the clear distinction between the high and minor nobility. Having never been to a formal school, Freya had felt completely out of her depth. 

Fortunately, Edelgard had noticed her in the back and beckoned her forward. A brief introduction later and she had been bombarded with questions from a colorful array of characters. 

Caspar was energetic and forward, asking for a fight first and her name second. He seemed kind and honest in his own way, laughing off his classmates' concerns with ease. Freya thought he might actually be a good sparring partner.

Ferdinand von Aegir had made it very apparent that he thought himself the most skilled student in the class. His constant mention of nobility, which had been a failed attempt at subtle self-aggrandizement, rubbed Freya the wrong way. 

Dorothea, however, was a breath of fresh air. She seemed keen on interrupting Ferdinand’s noble tirade while keeping up a charmed appearance, using her words like thorns hidden under a rose’s petals. She seemed to be the only one who had any idea what a culture shock this entire experience was for Freya, and for that Freya was grateful. 

Petra had been hard to speak to, but not for lack of trying. Her grasp on Fodlan’s language was commendable, but without someone else more familiar with her level of understanding around Freya would lose the conversation quickly. Despite that, Petra clearly was determined to give her best shot at befriending Freya.

Bernadetta and Lindhart were both almost impossible to talk to. Whenever Freya approached Bernadetta, the anxious girl would only scream and hide under the nearest piece of furniture. For the poor girl’s own sake, Freya had started to avoid her. Her issue with Lindhart was almost the complete opposite. Where Bernadetta’s actions were clear overreactions, Lindhart’s were absolutely nonexistent. Any attempt at conversation ended with some sort of correction or snore. 

Edelgard and Hubert were the hardest to get a read on in the class. They interacted like normal students, but Freya got the feeling something else was at play. Jeralt’s first lessons had been on reading an opponent, to watch for the subtle movement’s that let you know when someone is about to retreat or attack. Hubert was easy to read, he was constantly alert glancing between Edelgard and anyone within ten feet of her. He clearly wasn’t here to learn, his mission to protect Edelgard practically written on his face.

Her suspicions were confirmed when he cornered Freya after class one day for a delightful chat. It consisted of more than minor threats against her and her family if he deemed them any type of threat to his lady. 

Freya didn’t even bother to hide her disgust when he was around.

Edelgard didn’t talk to her much, staying distant from everyone except Hubert. She almost felt like Byleth, staring out into a distant future Freya couldn’t see. What little interaction they had at least shown Freya that she was not unwanted in this house. If anything, Edelgard was most interested in Freya when it came to discussing her fit into the class. Freya had to stop herself from thinking about it too much. Edelgard was a puzzle that actively threw away her own pieces just so no one else could see the whole picture.

Freya shook her head and returned to the present, fastening the last button of her vest. She glared at the jabot on her desk for a moment before reluctantly putting it on. Her last accessory was a dagger she strapped to her leg, just in case. She took a second to check her appearance again and let out a sigh, heading out to the monastery gardens. 

The lack of anyone her age walking about the compound confirmed her suspicions that it was too early to head to class. Instead she took a walk around the pond, looking towards the sky for the morning patrol of falcon knights. It was always impressive how they glided through the air, as if the sky was nothing but another hill on which to ride. 

It was in this blissful moment that perhaps the last voice she ever wanted to hear called to her. 

“You are up early, Miss Eisner.”

“A futile attempt to avoid you, it seems. How are you, Hubert? Getting an early start on threatening the locals?”

The fiend in question merely smirked at her derision. He was a boy on the cusp of manhood, a tall and imposing figure, sturdy muscle hidden behind a lean form. His eyes were pale, carrying a dangerous glint. His hair was longer, draping across his right eye like a black curtain. 

Everything about him would have screamed ‘evil’ even if he hadn’t spent their first meeting promising to kill her.

“Hardly. The locals aren’t nearly as contemptuous as you.” He glared before walking towards the dorms.

“Off to do Lady Edelgard’s bidding again, Hubie?” She called, wanting nothing more than to get a rise out of him. Using Dorothea’s nickname for him seemed to do the trick.

Hubert stopped and turned, not fully facing his classmate. “If you want me to make good on my threats, all you have to do is ask.” 

“For the chance to stick my dagger in your throat? Why, I’d never turn down such a wonderful opportunity.” Both were still, a hair's breadth away from launching an attack on one another. 

Freya may not have been confident in her swordsmanship, but her dagger was light, fast. She had killed plenty of bandits who thought the tiny weapon a joke. Even if Hubert was half the assassin he pretended he was, she was confident she could stop his voice before the last of his first incantations were uttered. 

“That’s enough, you two. You’ll have plenty of time to kill each other after we graduate.” Edelgard stepped between the two, looking frustrated with their actions. 

“My apologies, Lady Edelgard.” Hubert gave a deep bow, causing Freya to roll her eyes.

“See, now if you were that nice to me I wouldn’t be tempted to throw a knife in your eye.” She got out of her crouched position, relaxing her shoulders back into a casual stance.

Edelgard’s eyes narrowed and she turned to Hubert, a hand already rubbing her temples.

“Hubert, please tell me you did not take my request to give Freya a warm welcome as an excuse to threaten her.” She bemoaned into her gloved hand, her voice betraying a small sound of warmth behind the statement.

Hubert stayed bowed as he answered. “I simply let her know the consequences of becoming an enemy of yours, your Majesty.”

“Yes, my lack of crest, status, and wealth are a clear threat to the next Emperor of Adrestia.” Freya giggled briefly into her hand, the absurdity of it all getting to her.

“You are an unknown quantity. Anything unknown is a threat.” Hubert growled with his typical lack of anything resembling a sense of humor. He straightened up and faced Edelgard. “Your Majesty, I will now take my leave to wake up the rest of our classmates.” he quickly turned and made his way to the dorms.

With his departure, Edelgard sighed. She moved over to Freya, one hand on her hip while the other gestured in the air as she spoke. “I apologize for Hubert. He’s normally that dreary and dark, but usually he is able to keep up at least the appearance of camaraderie.” 

She trailed off, her gaze looking away before returning to Freya. “It seems we all are a bit anxious to see what the children of Jeralt can bring to the table.” 

She turned, her silver hair shimmering in the morning sun. “Come on, today is the last day to strategize before the mock battle tomorrow. Can you handle one more day with Hubert?”

Freya jogged a bit to catch up to her, walking beside her as they headed to their classroom. “Anything for you, your Majesty.” Freya mocked in her best, but very poor, Hubert impression. 

Edelgard let out a small laugh before covering her mouth and clearing her throat, refusing to look Freya in the eyes. Freya entered the classroom with a giant smile on her face.

* * *

The day of the mock battle had arrived, their first assignment as a class. They had spent the last week strategizing over maps and books, and Freya had gotten more than a little excited. The battle was a mock battle, allowing only hits lower than the head using practice weapons. A hit to the chest meant that student had to leave the battlefield. The plan was for every student to take out two other students before they were eliminated. Freya took one look at Bernadetta and Lindhart and mentally changed that to four. Hanneman then had explained that the instructors for each class would also be participating and all her excitement left. 

_Second place isn’t that bad._

The morning had been spent preparing at the practice field, a large open area dotted with the occasional clump of trees here and there. A bit of the field was wet from a late night rain shower, but overall Freya had to commend the school on putting together a decent battlefield. 

On a ridge overlooking the field she could see Seteth talking to the professors. Byleth was dressed in her usual fighting attire, her sword firmly strapped to her waist. Freya started to put up a hand to get her attention, but then thought better of it. She didn’t want to get her sister in trouble with Seteth. The adviser had been particularly irritating the last couple weeks, seemingly looking for anything that proved that Byleth was unsuited for her new position. If Freya thought she could punch him and get away with it, she probably would. 

Another unexpected figure walked up to the ridge a little distance away from the convening adults. Freya couldn’t hold back as she called out, her hand raised as high as she could get it in a wave. Jeralt smiled at his youngest and waved back, the knights behind him. Freya hadn’t seen her father since they arrived. It seemed the church wanted to waste no time in using their returning captain. 

“Freya, it’s time. Are you prepared?” Edelgard’s voice caught her attention. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ready.” Freya looked down at the wooden sword in her hand. 

The Officer’s Academy did not train anyone in the use of daggers. They gave her the option of sword, lance, axe, gauntlets, or bows. Considering she had never trained with anything else, the sword was the only viable option. Her grip on the handle tightened as she tested the weight.

_Just remember the steps and don’t fall down._

“Where is that bravado from yesterday?” Hubert moved behind Edelgard, taking his rightful place as her shadow. 

Freya’s eyes narrowed and she straightened herself up into a confident stance. “Basic rule of combat, Hubert. If you aren’t nervous going onto the battlefield you’ve already accepted death as an option.” She brushed past both her classmates as she headed to her place on the battlefield. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not losing today.”

She set up at her spot, an arbitrary field of grass that was to afford her freedom of movement and clear vision. This wasn’t like the fights she had been in before; Bandits don’t really allow you to set up according to your strengths before a fight. The breeze pulled at her hair and uniform. 

The noise around her quieted until the only thing she could hear was her heartbeat and the trees. Her right hand gripped her sword, adjusting over and over. Nothing about its weight was comfortable or familiar, too heavy for how her body wanted to move. She shook her head and steadied herself, finding the familiar stance Jeralt had taught her. Her target was the Golden Deer. She had to focus on taking as many of them out as possible. She pulled her hair up away from her face.

Seconds that seemed like hours passed, each quiet moment increasing the tension in her body. Her breathing slowed, deep and controlled. The sound of a flare being fired signaled the start of the battle, and like a spring finally being released Freya bolted towards the treeline ahead. 

Air flowed around her, tugging back at the force of her run. Her boots tore at the ground, leaving streaks of mud where she had been. Behind her she could hear the sound of fighting begin. The clash of wood hitting wood echoed in the open air. Her eyes scanned the field to her left and right, spotting Dorothea and Caspar running towards the back of Golden Deer territory. 

She almost reached the trees when the sound of an arrow whistled towards her. Her instincts took control and she kicked off to her left, narrowly dogging the projectile. A scan of the arrows direction led deeper into the trees. A flash of light on a pair of glasses along with the top of his dirty blonde hair gave away her attacker’s position. 

Freya grabbed her sword with both hands and dived into the trees straight towards her opponent. His squeal at her approach gave her all the information she needed to know. Her legs pushed themselves harder, knowing the faster she got to him the less he could gather his courage. She weaved between trees, giving him no time to pinpoint her location, until she was right in front of his hiding place. Intimidation was her best weapon against this foe, so she headed straight for him, looking him dead in the eye as she raised her sword to strike. 

The boy tried to reload an arrow at the approaching attacker, but he was too slow. Before he could draw his bowstring back, Freya had landed a solid blow against his chest. The swing was too hard, causing her to stumble behind him as she quickly tried to readjust her balance. He fell to the ground, coughing violently. 

Freya froze at the violent cough, suddenly aware that she was not fighting bandits, but students at a posh academy for nobles. 

“Oh, um. That was a bit hard. I’m sorry…?” She knelt down and helped the archer up, brushing leaves out of his hair and uniform.

“Ignatz.” He coughed once more, but it was lighter, an attempt at regulating his breathing rather than a sigh of duress. 

“Freya. Well, I have to go… beat up your classmates?” Her voice raised in pitch as she realized the stupidity of her statement. “You ok to get to the safe zone on your own?”

Ignatz nodded and clutched his bow as he made his way towards the edge of the battlefield. 

Freya took a second to herself before looking out of the trees towards the open field. She spotted Caspar and Dorothea fighting a strangely familiar young girl and the bulkiest guy Freya had ever seen. They seemed tired, but Dorothea’s magic was slowly creating an opening in their enemies attacks. Freya made a move to help but stopped when another movement just outside the trees caught her attention. 

From deeper in Golden Deer territory, a boy with shockingly purple hair and a lance was rushing to the fight. 

“I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, and you will do well to remember that name as I will be the one to defeat y-” His voice cut off as Freya slammed her sword into his back. 

She wasn’t as sorry this time.

Glancing around her, the field was almost empty. The fight between her classmates and the other Golden Deer had died out, Caspar and the two other students making their way to the safe zone. Dorothea started running towards the ruins in the corner of the field where Professor Manuela was supposedly positioned. Another glance back showed Petra running in the same direction to support her. 

Freya faced the opposite direction towards the Blue Lion territory. Another line of trees blocked the view to the field beyond, but there was a path to the right almost worn down from prior travel. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the remnants of arrows sticking out of the ground. 

That path was far too distant from where Ignatz was located for those to be from him. Another archer had to be hiding out here. A memory flashed in her mind, the boy with green eyes and a yellow cape next to her sister as they trekked, a well made bow sitting solidly in his hand. She scanned the field for any signs of Claude. Wherever he was, he wasn’t giving away anymore clues to his location.

She cautiously moved towards the treeline, aware that she was about to be targeted. She tried to relax her shoulders, give off the impression that she wasn’t aware there was any danger nearby. If she could be her own bait, she could determine where her enemy was. Her body refused to completely relax, but she was able to get herself in a semi-calm walking gait. Her grip was still uncomfortable on the hilt of her sword.

Her eyes remained focused on the trees, waiting to hear the whistle of an arrow let loose. He would be aiming for her chest, a clean kill shot would be the best way to guarantee victory against a close combatant. He would be held back by the blunt arrows he was forced to use. They’re slower, meaning as long as she kept an ear out she could have enough time to adjust so the shot hits a non-eliminating part instead. It was a risky plan at best.

When she heard the sound of something coming her way she lept into action, moving her left arm over her chest as she dashed to the right. The projectile hit her left leg and stopped her in her tracts, plummeting her to the ground mid-dash. The pain hit her in waves. She looked over to see that she had been attacked not by an arrow, but by a dull hand-axe. 

Freya pushed herself off the ground, her hands and knees now covered in a thin layer of mud. She gripped her sword tighter and held herself in a defensive stance towards her attacker. 

_Of course he has a friend._

Out of the trees came a girl with light pink hair in twintails. She was clear of any signs of fighting, her uniform free of leaves and muck. She walked forward nonchalantly, waving a wooden axe effortlessly behind her back. Freya scanned for any sign of Claude, but he didn’t reveal his position. 

The second Freya’s eyes left the girl she pounced, running towards Freya with her axe at the ready. Freya’s eyes widened as she jumped back to gain some distance before her first strike, the pain in her left leg numbed by adrenaline. The axe landed where she had been only seconds before, but the pink hair girl was already pulling it back up for another strike. With planning gone and instinct taking over, Freya clumsily swung her sword at her opponent’s hands. 

The girl pulled her strike back as the sword got close before countering with a side swing instead. She twisted her body to throw her weight into the swing, striking Freya’s arm with great force. Freya managed to pull her sword towards her arm in time to lessen the blow, but pain still blossomed under her shoulder. 

Taking a step back to recenter herself, the characteristic sound of an arrow whistled passed her ear. She cursed under her breath as she spotted a flash of yellow behind a nearby tree. She didn’t have long to process Claude’s position before the girl struck again. A sloppy dodge to the right again and Freya was breathing heavily. She couldn’t take much more of this, especially two versus one. She had to think of something to turn the tide. Something that would allow her an opening. 

She grabbed a fist full of mud and threw it at the girl’s chest. 

The mud had its intended effect of distracting the girl, but she seemed almost too distracted, clearly bothered by the new state of her clothes. Freya took her sword and thrust it upward solidly landing against the girl’s ribcage. After a moment of shock, the girl laughed, her violent demeanor changing completely into a carefree one. She shrugged and walked to the side, away from both Freya and the trees. 

Freya could only take one more breath before she was forced to dodge another arrow, Claude stepping out of the trees already reloading his next shot. She was back on her feet, the takedown of her last foe bringing in a new wave of hope. She felt the stiffness in her legs, the resistance to every breath of air, the sweat dripping from her skin. She didn’t have much stamina left to fight, so she had to take him down quickly. 

She grasped her sword with both hands and charged at the archer, hoping that she was faster than his pull. The world almost moved in slow motion, her feet hitting the ground in a rhythmic beat accompanied by the beating in her chest and the heavy exhale of her breath. His hand pulled back, his arrow still, and then he released.

She slipped.

The world moved backwards for a moment, her body bending in an attempt to right itself. Freya let out a gasp as her back hit the ground, all the air in her lungs escaping. The mud carried her forward, the slick surface conserving her running momentum for a couple seconds longer. She slid next to Claude’s position as she slowed. For any other fighter this might have disoriented them, but if Freya was used to anything it was falling. She pulled her sword through the mud and swung it at Claude’s legs with as much force as she could muster.

A yelp from above and the sound of another body hitting the ground signaled her success. Without missing a beat, she flipped over on her stomach and smacked his back with her sword, cementing her victory. 

She flipped back over and just laid on the ground, her heavy breathing and erratic heartbeat filling her ears. Her body settled into the ground, content to never move ever again. The clouds above moved so slowly over the bright blue sky, causing brief periods of shade to be interrupted by bright beams of light. Her view was broken by the happy face and muddy chest of the axe wielding girl. 

“Wow, you beat me and Claude. I’ve never seen you before, are you new?” She asked, still crouched over Freya’s head.

“Yeah, I’m Freya, one of Jeralt’s kids.” The girl smiled and helped Freya out of the mud. 

“Hilda. So you’re the new Black Eagle girl. Dorothea mentioned you.” Hilda moved over Claude who was looking at the sky.

“Only good things, I hope? Also sorry about your shirt. I’d offer to get it cleaned but I’m pretty sure I’m the poorest person on the battlefield.” Freya tried to laugh at her own joke, but it fell awkwardly off her lips.

Hilda kicked Claude’s shoulder and he laughed, waving her away and lifting himself off the ground. He cleaned himself of grass and dirt as best he could before facing Freya. 

“No big deal, she can handle a bit of dirt. Congratulations on your victory.” Claude bowed deeply, but something about the gesture seemed sarcastic to Freya. “It’s interesting to see Jeralt’s other child in action. Seems you both got the gifted mercenary gene.”

“It would have been a very different fight if you had real arrows.” She commented, both because it was a true statement and because she felt it would soothe his pain from losing to an accidental slip in the mud. 

“I doubt it. Had I had real arrows, both you and I would have played this out much differently. In the end though, luck is just as important as strategy in battle.” The glint in his eyes told her he really believed that. 

Hilda grabbed onto Claude’s arm and started to head to the safe zone. Claude fought her grab, but made no real move to escape her. 

“Bye Freya! Good luck with the rest of the battle!” Hilda called out.

“Try not to slip!” Claude playfully teased.

And then Freya was alone in the Golden Deer side of the battlefield. A flare lit up the sky, a signal that the first house had been defeated. Freya let a sigh of relief leave her. They had at least beaten one class, perhaps if her classmates had somehow gotten a lucky hit on her sister they could win the whole thing.

Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, Freya could feel her limbs protesting again. Her leg started to throb from the axe hit and her left arm was pulsing under her shoulder. Her back and chest were caked in mud and her hair tie had been lost long ago. She marched slowly to Black Eagle territory, hoping Lindhart was still around to give her a shot of healing magic.

Stumbling through the line of trees back to the field, Freya could see a line of students building up along the ridge outside the battlefield. Most if not all of the rest of the students were sitting at the safe zone, watching the rest of the fighting from a distance. She spotted the four Golden Deer she had fought along with the rest of her class, but not her sister. Her heart sank. 

Standing in the open field, Freya knew that she only had to turn towards the Blue Lion territory to see her sister approaching. Byleth looked completely unfazed walking slowly towards her sister. Freya could see slight scuffle marks on parts of Byleth’s armor, but otherwise her sister remained untouched. Her blue hair and coat moved silently in the wind, but her gaze remained fixed on Freya.

Freya looked like a mess, covered in sweat and mud that had refused to leave her during her trek back. Her hair was in knots and matted at the back of her head, her uniform torn where she had been hit. She wouldn’t be surprised if she looked half crazed. 

When Byleth got within 20 feet of Freya she readied her sword, holding it as elegantly as if it had no differences to the steel weapon she was accustomed to. Her legs bent in her attack stance, and her body tensed, ready to fight.

For a second Freya reached for her weapon. Her hand hovered over the hilt for seconds as she processed all the thoughts and emotions that were whirling up inside. Her body protested any movement, and yet it hummed with an instinct to fight. Her mind knew that she could not win, and yet her heart hoped that this was the one time she would. She wished she could win this battle for her new classmates.

But as her spirit fell, so did her hand. This was Byleth, the Ashen Demon, her sister who she had watched fight countless bandits and go toe to toe with their father. This wasn’t some scared noble, or some inexperienced teen she could distract with mud. This was a seasoned fighter, someone who didn’t know hesitation. Someone she had never won against.

She lowered her hand and shook her head, watching concern work its way on Byleth’s face. 

“I concede. You win.” She gave Byleth a small smile before turning and heading towards the safe zone. 

She ignored the feeling of two blue eyes staring into her back.

It took a couple minutes, but the second flare launched into the sky, celebrating the end of the mock battle. A loud cheer sounded from the safe zone, the sound of the students of the Blue Lions. Freya stared at the sky with dull eyes. The clouds moved, unperturbed by the events on the ground below. She could feel her body slowing as she got closer to where her classmates stood. The feeling of hesitation, that she had something to fear from them, was new. She managed to regain her confident stride before reaching them, even if it was fake.

“Why didn’t you fight the professor? We could have won!” Caspar spoke first, his voice breaking through the silence that had settled on the class.

Freya flinched but maintained her posture as she pulled out her wooden sword. She would not allow them to see her hurt.

“I don’t fight battles I know I’m going to lose. It’s how you stay alive in the real world.” Her voice held more bitterness than she intended. 

Caspar huffed angrily before walking off. Lindhart and Petra followed him, saying nothing.

“So that is it? All your talk and you just walk away when it suits you? Pathetic.” Hubert’s low tone contained the barest hint of mirth.

Freya wiped around to face him. He stood behind a seated Edelgard, both nursing their own wounds in such a way as to put as little attention on them as possible. Her blood boiled at Hubert’s grin, clearly enjoying her failure. She gripped her sword and violently tossed it into the pile with the other training weapons. 

“I took out four students before I quit. I faced both Claude and Hilda at the same time. I wasn’t going to get beat up anymore just to please you.” She practically hissed.

Hubert’s amusement turned darker and he made a move to continue the argument until a hand stopped him. Edelgard lowered her hand back into her lap and looked at Hubert, an exchange happening without words.

“You’re right. People only face impossible odds when they believe in something greater than themselves” Her voice was calm, not a shred of blame in her tone. It didn’t stop Freya from feeling incredibly guilty.

Freya walked past the rest of the Black Eagles, making her way back to the monastery as quickly as she could walk. Seteth was on his way down the ridge towards the students when he passed her. He turned to face her, an annoyed expression on his face.

“Miss Eisner, we need to discuss your work ethic. You cannot simply quit during the monasteries activi-” He tried to continue, but the girl had already left, continuing towards the monastery with no signs of stopping.

* * *

Only when safely in her dorm did Freya let out a frustrated yell into her pillow. She didn’t care that she was getting all of these fancy expensive things dirty with dried mud and sweat, she just needed these emotions out of her. She wanted to go back to when she had felt so proud of herself for beating Claude, to when she looked up at the clouds and felt victory coursing through her veins rather than shame. And what had she to be ashamed about? That she didn’t want to face the strongest fighter on the field? That she didn’t want to fight a battle that only had one conclusion? 

She bit her pillow and screeched again. She hated the feeling of disappointing anyone, but what had they expected! She was just another student like them now, it wasn’t like she had been asked to be a professor. 

Her wallowing was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Go away.” She mumbled, too tired to deal with whoever was at the door. 

“I’ll just wait here till you open the door then.” It was Jeralt’s voice.

Freya sat on her bed, torn. Ultimately her wish to see her father won out and she opened the door. The large knight walked in and closed the door behind him, sitting down on the only chair in the room while his daughter moved back to the bed. 

“That was a good fight, kid.” 

“Mmmm.” Her head was back in her pillow.

“Shame it ended up you versus your sister.”

“Mmmm.” Her response only sounded more miserable.

“Why didn’t you fight her?”

She lifted her face off the pillow to answer. “Cause I was going to lose.”

He nodded his head, considering her response. “That’s never stopped you before.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but Freya could hear it regardless. “You always challenge Byleth to a fight, usually a couple in a row.”

“I’m bad with a sword. I already tripped up once today... didn’t want to trip again.”

“You shouldn’t lie to me, kiddo. That was the best I’ve seen you do with a sword yet.” Freya couldn’t stop the small smile of pride. 

“Fine. I just…” She looked at her lap and her hands, still covered in long dried mud. “I don’t know. I couldn’t do it today.”

Jeralt got up from his chair and sat on the bed next to Freya. He moved one of his arms around her shoulders and hugged her to his chest.

“Did it have to do with the fact your classmates were watching?” Freya froze at the question.

“Why would that matter?” She muttered softly, staring at a random spot on the wall.

“Because a lot of times we want to look our best in front of those we want to impress. It’s your first time staying with people your age, I would be more surprised if you didn’t want them to like you.” He started petting her hair, careful to mind the clumps and matting from her tumble. 

“I don’t… I don’t care what they think of me. They’re just a bunch of noble brats who think money means everything.” 

“You don’t believe that.”

A quiet minute passed, the only movement being Jeralt’s hand across her hair. 

“I don’t believe that.” She muttered almost to herself. Most of her classmates had treated her warmly and with respect. None of them had dismissed her outright. Even Hubert had acknowledged her in his own darker way.

“I want you to be happy, Freya. And I would be even more happy if you were able to make friends while you’re here. You and Byleth. I think meeting other people can do you both a lot of good.” 

“And what if I already messed up? What if they hate me because I quit?” Jeralt hugged his daughter harder.

“I don’t think you’ve done anything not worth forgiving. I’m sure after the initial disappointment at the loss is gone, they’ll realize they’re being a bit hard on you.” 

Freya nodded, sitting just a bit straighter now. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Now, let’s get you and these sheets cleaned up. While I’m sure Seteth would understand, I do not think he will be too happy with you tracking mud across the grounds.”

Jeralt would take his leave and allow Freya to shower in peace. She would return to her dorm to find her old sheets removed and replaced with fresh clean ones. She would lay on her bed for another hour before sleep would take her.

And in that hour, she would hold her right hand up to the ceiling. The hand that holds her sword she struggles to wield while her sister flourishes. The hand that lacks a crest while her sister’s shines. 

And in that quiet hour, she wonders if she’ll ever be able to tell her father the real reason why she’ll never want to fight Byleth again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Don't expect updates to always be this fast; I had written most of this with chapter 1. Thanks to everyone who left a kudos or a comment. I really appreciate it! 
> 
> Have a nice day, FallenGale

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you anyone who took a chance on this work. I hope Freya can be an interesting addition, and that she comes across as her own character rather than a Mary-sue stand-in. I really want this to be a different take on the Crimson Flower route, rather than a wish fulfillment piece. 
> 
> Have a great rest of your day, FallenGale


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